To My New Body

In the summer of 2016, my body was (somehow) in relatively good nick. It had shrunk somewhat, and it was now able to run and jump and climb things with ease, as well as keep up with gaggles of toddlers and roam Parisian streets to its heart's content. It was a good, functioning body that I was beginning to love.

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The coolest teacher...

After my breakdown, a lot of things changed. Some of which I’m okay with now, others I’m still learning to accept and the biggest of all these changes has been my body. Through a mix of medication and trauma, my body is now one I don’t recognise or understand. It doesn’t move the same way, and I don’t feel comfortable in it. I’ve spent the last 7 months contorting my reflection to get it to look how it used to. I’ve hidden from it, and even when I’ve posted pictures of me in my underwear on Instagram I’ve still felt disconnected from it. It changed so quickly that I’ve struggled to keep up with it.

After a lot of tears at the unfairness of it all, and a lot of pulling at my skin and hair, I’m ready to get to know my new body.  While I’m sorry that we had to meet under such unfortunate circumstances, but I’m glad it’s still here.

My new body is soft and supple to the touch. My limbs are still strong and my legs carry me everywhere I need to go. My hands make delicious food for my family and write stories and posts like this. My clothes fit differently, but I still look good. My new body is a testament to my recovery, and acknowledging my new body is a part of that, too. Our bodies change through good times and bad, and they do what they must to keep us breathing and our hearts beating.

So hi, new body. It feels good to finally acknowledge you. I hope this is the start of a beautiful friendship.

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